


Living On the Edge of the World

by lookninjas



Series: Children's Work [29]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 16:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19891021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookninjas/pseuds/lookninjas
Summary: It is the summer of 1997.  Ben is about to start Cranbrook; Poe is about to start Columbia.  Poe is acting very strange; Ben is just trying to get through.(Or: Ben and Poe listen toDisintegration.  Feelings ensue, but mostly sad ones.)





	Living On the Edge of the World

THIS MUSIC WAS MIXED TO BE PLAYED LOUD SO TURN IT UP.

He folds the cd booklet back up, watches Poe light a stick of incense on his dresser even though the room is already sweet enough from sandalwood, swings his feet over the worn, sand-colored carpet, wishes he wasn’t in jeans. It’s too hot already, even though it’s only June. But his shorts are too short, and he doesn’t have any new ones yet. His mom said she’d take him to get some, but she hasn’t yet. Poe could take him, maybe -- he has a car; he can drive. It feels weird, though, asking. 

Not that this is any less weird, really. Hanging out with Poe is supposed to be normal stuff -- playing frisbee or Nintendo or riding bikes or whatever. Not…

Well. Not whatever this is. Ben’s still not sure what it’s supposed to be, only Poe says it’s important. Poe says that a lot, lately. _This is important, Ben._ And _You’re starting high school, Ben._ And _I’m not gonna be there, Ben._ Which -- Poe wasn’t there for middle school, either. They didn’t go to the same elementary school. And yeah, okay, Poe wasn’t in New York when Ben was in middle school, but it’s not that different. They don’t hang out that much.

Anyway, it’s only high school. It’s not a big deal, not really. Just another school. With uniforms. And probably more rich people. But still.

“So.” Poe finally turns back to him, grinning. “You ready?”

It’s a cd. They are going to be listening to a cd. He has ears. He can’t possibly not be ready for this.

“Not really,” he says, anyway, because it sounds like something his dad would say to be funny.

Poe rolls his eyes. Then he reaches out, faster really than Ben can see him, and grabs Ben by the hands, tugging. He can’t actually pull Ben up if Ben doesn’t stand, of course, so Ben sits and lets him tug until he can’t handle it anymore, until it starts to feel weird in a funny way that he’s not sure he likes, and then he pops up like a spring, almost headbutting Poe in the face.

“Dork,” Poe says, and doesn’t mean it, not really. Ben’s pretty sure. “Okay.” He takes a couple of steps back, holding his hands out. “You’re gonna want to lie down for this. It’s the best way to do it.”

“I’m still going to be taller than you,” Ben warns. He is not taller than Poe, not yet. He will be soon, though, unless he’s stopped growing, and he knows he hasn’t. His dad was still growing a little when he turned twenty. Ben is taller than most of the kids in his class already, and he’s not about to stop, not yet. 

“Not yet, you’re not,” Poe says, and when Ben stays standing, Poe shoves his chest, very gently. Poe’s always careful with him, like he’s never quite realized Ben isn’t a baby anymore. “Trust me. Lie down. It’s better this way.”

“It’s a cd,” Ben grumbles, finally, but he folds down anyway, stretches out on the floor with his hands folded on his belly. 

Poe just grins at him. “It really isn’t.” Then he walks away -- four steps to the window to turn the fan off, making Ben cringe a little in his skin. Two more steps and he’s at his old dresser, the blue paint chipping off the sides, and he presses play on the boombox. Two more back, and finally he lays down on the floor next to Ben, close enough to swing his foot out and tap at Ben’s toes, far enough to fold his arms behind his head without elbowing Ben in the ear. 

It feels… weird, again. Like letting Poe tug on his hands, that kind of weird. A lot of things feel like that, lately. He kind of wonders if it’s related to the boner thing, though. He’s not actually getting a boner every time a breeze blows on him, but people keep saying it’ll happen so much that he thinks he’s starting to get paranoid. Like he doesn’t want to even look at people lately, even boys.

Even Poe.

He looks at the poster on Poe’s wall instead -- _Boys Don’t Cry_ , and Robert Smith with his back to the camera, hair sticking up everywhere and his toes turned in. There’s wind chimes for a couple of seconds, soft enough that they could be coming from anywhere, maybe the neighbors, and then the music kicks in with a sort of cymbal crash and chiming. Then synthesizer all over, this weird shimmering sound. Heavy bass and slow drums, and it’s not like he hasn’t listened to _Disintegration_ before. He is friends with Poe! Poe has been making everyone he knows listen to _Disintegration_ for at least two years now, probably longer.

Apparently it’s different on the floor somehow. Ben has no idea how.

He turns to look at Poe, to figure out what he’s missing, and Poe is smiling at the ceiling, eyes closed. “Just wait,” he says.

The one thing everyone says to you when you’re thirteen. _Just wait._ No one ever tells you what you’re waiting for.

The guitar comes in, finally. That’s always been Ben’s favorite part of the Cure. The weird underwater sound of the guitar. And Robert Smith’s voice, too. The way he doesn’t sound like anyone else. He likes things like that, that don’t sound like anything else. Just themselves. 

_I think it’s dark and it looks like rain, you said_

It is, he guesses, kind of nice like this. Lying on the floor, letting the music wash over them. Every time Poe’s made him listen to _Disintegration_ , he’s always thought it felt the way that water feels. That if he could see it, it would look like Lake Michigan looks, the times he’s gone up north and seen it. How clear it is, how he could see his feet on the sand below him, just sort of distorted and wavy. Something like that, perfectly cold and clear and warped in a repeating way, passing over in waves like that. Even in this hot upstairs room, with the air so still and Poe’s incense hanging heavy over them, there’s a part of him in the lake right now, just because of the music. Which is pretty cool. 

He should see if they could take Poe up north this summer, even for a couple of days. Since Poe is leaving and everything, and for all the things New York City does have, it doesn’t have Lake Michigan. They could camp at Petoskey State Park and go swimming, maybe. They could hike on the trails and go get Gurney’s for lunch. He knows Poe gets weird about camping, but Ben’s good enough at it for both of them, and anyway they’d have Ben’s dad at least, and maybe Chewie. So they could drive around and stuff. It wouldn’t be just beans over a fire. And there’s real bathrooms there, he’s pretty sure, and --

And he drifts, maybe, a little bit, because when he stops floating in ideas and comes back heavy into his body in the heat, Robert Smith is singing 

_Christmas falls late now, flatter and colder_

And Poe is sniffling a little, and when Ben turns to look, he sees a tear trickle from underneath Poe’s eyelashes and slide down the side of his cheek, and he doesn’t know what to do about it. Really, you’re supposed to cry when you listen to the Cure. It’s what everyone says. But Poe doesn’t cry as a general rule. Sometimes, like when his mom died and everything was really sore, and then when he broke up with Nicole and then also just sometimes he’s really tired from homework and everything, but.

Usually, Poe would’ve warned him. He’s good at that, at knowing when he’s going to cry about something. It doesn’t take him by surprise, and he never lets stuff like that take Ben by surprise. The idea of something like this being something Poe can’t predict is weird and unnerving, and Ben doesn’t like it much.

But it’s Poe, and he has to do something, so he tries anyway.

“Poe?” he asks, and his voice cracks wrong and he hates it for that. This isn’t a time for him to be a little kid anymore. Poe needs him, obviously, so he has to be better than this. He tries again. “Poe.”

Better. Except he still doesn’t know what else to say. He thinks maybe he used to be better at this.

Poe sniffles again. “Sorry,” he says, soft. His hand goes from underneath his head to next to Ben’s, to squeezing Ben’s hand, fingers intertwined. 

Ben squeezes back, just for something to feel like he’s helping a little.

“Sorry,” Poe says again, and clears his throat. “I just… The Cure, right? Sometimes it just gets you like that.”

“Yeah,” Ben says. Because, well. Yeah. 

But also, no.

Then, without even thinking about it, he says, “You know you don’t have to go to Columbia if you don’t want to, right? I mean, you could go to school anywhere. Your dad wouldn’t care.” Which is true, at least, but he doesn’t even know why he would think it was about that, except that the way Poe goes still, he’s probably not wrong. “I mean, he might be a little disappointed, but it wouldn’t be that bad. There’s good schools here. And you’ll be good anywhere, anyway. You’re really smart. You don’t need a school to be smarter. You’d be good anywhere.”

“Huh,” Poe says, and turns his head, a movement Ben only catches out of the corner of his eye because he is very definitely staring at the poster of Robert Smith right now. “I mean… Yeah. I know. Just…” 

When he’s sure Poe is safely staring at the ceiling again, Ben risks a quick glance, catches Poe chewing on his lower lip. Goes back to staring at Robert Smith again.

Maybe he is about to start getting boners at everything he sees. But this is probably a bad time to start so he’s going to try really hard not to.

“It’s big,” Poe says, finally. “And it’s a lot of change. And I… I don’t know. I’d be lying if I said the whole thing didn’t freak me out. Because it does. But at some point, I think you do need to start doing things that scare you. And, you know. If it doesn’t work out. Then I can come back and you and I can start that band, right?” He squeezes Ben’s hand again. “So. Make sure you keep up with those piano lessons. Need a good keyboard guy.”

“Of course,” Ben says. He was, actually, thinking about quitting piano lessons. With high school and everything, he’s not sure he’ll have the time. But then he won’t be hanging out with Poe, either. He doesn’t know who he’ll be hanging out with. Not Matt, that’s for sure. Jen doesn’t like him much. But anyway, he’ll figure it out. There’ll be other people. There always are. “Yeah, no. Of course. Of course I will.”

“Cool,” Poe says, sounding genuinely relieved. “So it’ll be fine, then. It’s… I know it’s a lot. Moving and Columbia and everything. But it’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” Ben says. He’s not totally sure Poe sounds like he means it. But on the other hand, Poe doesn’t lie to him. He doesn’t really lie at all; that’s one of the good things about Poe. Anyway, it will be, probably. Poe always lands on his feet. He’ll be fine. “It will.”

“Yeah,” Poe says. 

He doesn’t say anything else. Ben doesn’t know what to say. They just lay there on the carpet, holding hands, palms sweating against each other. If this was a movie, they’d be blood brothers by now, probably. Sweat’s not very different though. And you can’t get AIDS from it. 

One song skitters back off into the shadows. The next one nudges its way in with thrumming bass. Ben’s always liked this one especially. Of all the songs on the cd, he thinks maybe this one’s the best. 

“Poe?” Ben asks, after a couple seconds. “Can I play bass instead of keyboard?”

Poe laughs -- it sounds almost normal, which is probably good. “I mean, yeah. If you want. Gotta play it low, though.” He wobbles his legs around, toes colliding with Ben’s again. “Down around the knees. Looks better like that.”

Ben grins. He finally risks a look at Poe, grinning back at him. The weird and hard and good and awful thing about Poe is that for everything else, sometimes Poe just makes him feel happy in a way that other people don’t. He doesn’t know what he’ll do when Poe’s gone and there’s no one left he likes as much anymore. He tries not to think about it much.

“Hey,” Poe says, soft. He isn’t grinning anymore. “Ben.”

“It’s fine,” Ben says, quickly. “I mean, you’ll be home for Christmas and spring break and everything, and it’s. It’s fine. Cranbrook’s supposed to be super-hard anyway, so. We probably wouldn’t even get to hang out much really.”

“ _Ben_ ,” Poe says, heavier, and shuffles in closer so they’re shoulder to shoulder. Tips his forehead in and Ben sighs and mimics him, skull to skull. Brain to brain. Sweat brothers. “You’re allowed to be sad about stuff if you need to be. I get it. It’s hard. It’s okay if you’re sad about it. It really, really is. I’m sad too.”

Which is why Ben’s not supposed to be sad. Not that Ben is going to say that. He’s clueless about feelings sometimes and he knows it; he’s been told enough that he doesn’t really need more telling. But he knows that there’s things he and Poe just can’t agree on, and this is one of them.

“Look,” Poe says, finally, claustrophobic close, his breath puffing against Ben’s face. Ben should mind but he doesn’t, really. There’s four or five people who are allowed to be this close -- two of them are his parents and one is Chewie. Poe’s the only other person who is all-the-time allowed to do this. Luke is only mostly allowed, but not always. Everyone else is seldom to never. “I’m gonna leave this cd with you. Okay? If you need to be sad when I’m gone, then. Turn it on. Lay down. And just let yourself be sad. Okay?”

The thing is that if he says yes, then he will have to. He isn’t sure he wants to. He doesn’t like wallowing, anyway, and he’s sad more than he should be, too serious. Wears too much black.

“Ben. Okay?”

“‘Kay,” he manages, finally, because it’s Poe, and Poe is his best friend, and the least he can do is give him one less thing to worry about.

“Okay,” Poe says. “Okay, good.”

He stays a little longer with his forehead pressed to Ben’s, then finally rolls back over, and Ben does the same. He’s crying a little now. Trying not to sniffle too much. Trying not to let it show.

_the shallow drowned lose less than we, you breathe_

“It’s hard,” Poe says. “What we’re doing. It’s gonna be hard. You’re allowed to be sad about that, Ben, and scared and mad and all kinds of things. I think you forget that sometimes. I just need you to remember that for me. Okay? Remember that you’re allowed to be sad.”

_can’t you see I try?_

“‘Kay,” Ben says again. 

Poe doesn’t let go of his hand. It helps, or maybe it doesn’t. It’s hard to say for sure.

_and we shall be together._

The air is sticky-warm and too sweet from incense. His jeans are heavy and rough on his legs. The carpet must be worn somewhere because there’s a nail digging into his back on the left side, and Poe’s palm is sweaty in his grip. But the music is cold and clear and washing over him, and he lets himself float in it, lets himself be sad for a few more songs, before they have to get up again and go have snacks with Poe’s dad.

_and we shall be together._

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuses. Frankly, I don't think I need them.
> 
> (Songs referenced, in order: "Plainsong," "Last Dance," "Lullaby," "Fascination Street," and "The Same Deep Water As You.")


End file.
